


Mine

by mandathegreat



Series: Clockwork Series [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Cardverse, M/M, Royalty, Series, possessive alfred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandathegreat/pseuds/mandathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumor has it the King and Queen are no longer lovers. </p>
<p>"Does it anger you that another man wants me?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” He said it like it was so simple.</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re mine.” </p>
<p>Rumors remain false.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot Clockwork Sequel. 
> 
> Alfred is 28. Arthur is 29. Peter is 4.

Arthur laughed, loud enough for the small company they were keeping in the Throne Room to hear. He could feel eyes glancing over at him; feel the attention warm his skin. His gentleman friend seemed delighted, memorized that Arthur—no, that the Queen would find his joke entertaining. 

He pretended to be interested as the man, perhaps a bit older than him, complemented his stature or his beauty, or whatever it was he was prattling on about. It was clear to Arthur that their guests in the palace believed the rumors as well; the King and Queen were no longer lovers, in fact, some say they had never been.

It was an act, you see. The Mage wasn’t satisfied with his position; he wanted more power. He schemed his way into his engagement with Prince Alfred, now King Alfred, and was made his Queen. 

The gentleman (Arthur couldn’t for the life of him remember his name) was becoming bolder now, leaning in closer. His hand grazed his shoulder, his breath ticked his cheeks, and Arthur could feel the glare cut into his back. The King had taken notice. Finally.

The man had laughed—chuckled, really, and Arthur thought that it made him unattractive. He let his hand fall down his shoulder to grasp at his forearm, as he quietly said, “Your Majesty, they tell me that you are lonely in the Palace. Perhaps, if I stay, you won’t be so lonely anymore.”

Arthur seemed to be speechless in the moment. In reality, he was waiting for it. Waiting for—yes, here it came.

“Excuse me, sir.” Alfred had a smile on his face, but Arthur knew better. He could see it in his eyes. Alfred was livid.

“Your Majesty! What may I do for you?” The gentleman’s eyes widened; he looked more like a loyal puppy than a man in the presence of the King.

“I need to speak with the Queen.” He was using clipped sentences, brief enough to get his message across. 

“Of course, Your Highness.” He took a step back.

“Alone.” Alfred said. He practically dragged Arthur to the small chamber behind the Throne Room, and the door made an audible slam as it was shut behind them.

Then his back was pressed up against the cold marble walls of the palace. It was a feeling he had almost gotten used to, for Alfred had a penchant for shoving him up against them. It was, Arthur mused, sort of their thing. 

Maybe it was an indecent thing, indecent for the King and his Queen.

Arthur didn’t care.

“What the fuck are you doing, Arthur!?” And there it was. Alfred’s face had twisted into an angry one, smile changed to scowl, and blue blue eyes stormy and intense.

“What ever do you mean, love?” Arthur was maybe being mean. 

“You’re just letting that, that rat crawl all over you. Really, Arthur? Is this your way of driving me insane?” Alfred really had him caged in, strong arms on either side of his face, chest pressed to chest. 

He had wanted to get a rise out of him. But now, Arthur didn’t want to play anymore.

“He thinks the rumors are true. They all do.” Alfred’s face went from angry to concerned almost too fast.

“Gods’ sakes, Arthur, they’re just rumors! Who cares what those bored old gossips have to say? You know the truth! I love you. I really love you.” Strong arms went around him then, pulling him close and pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

“Peter is getting chatty with other children at court. I’m worried that he will hear. I don’t want him to grow up thinking we don’t love each other.”

Alfred pulled back. Perhaps that one resonated with him too much. 

“You’re right. I don’t want that either.” Alfred’s kiss was too rough and too welcome. Arthur grasped at the expensive fabric of his jacket, tried to tangle fingers in his golden hair, until he realized that the King was still wearing his crown.

Alfred was becoming restless—he was an impatient man, especially when it came to Arthur. He began to pull at his jacket, hitch up his shirt, yanking down trousers until the Queen was an unacceptable mess. Arthur attempted to pull away.

“What are you doing? Alfred, our guests are right outside the room!” 

And then there was the smirk. Oh, gods, not the fucking smirk. It always came before trouble—the kind of trouble that left Arthur with a limp (and on one memorable occasion, fucking pregnant, although that was less of a trouble and more of a something wonderful).

“Well, what better to fight rumor than another rumor? The King and Queen absolutely can’t keep their hands off each other—they’re even fucking in the Throne Room.”

Arthur was completely besotted in the moment. “I love you.”

“Are you sure? Because I can go get that guy for you—you seemed pretty interested before.”

“Love, I remain uninterested by anyone but you. Does it anger you that another man wants me?”

“Yes.” He said it like it was so simple.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine.” 

And then they were off again, mouths crashing together, hands pulling and shifting until their clothes were off, just enough that Alfred could bite down on his neck, slide two spit slick fingers inside of him with enough force that Arthur would moan out his name, make sure to aim in the right place so Arthur would scream his name.

Arthur had both his legs wrapped around Alfred, back pressed into the wall. Arthur knew that Alfred liked to look at him as he slid inside (finally), and he tried to hold his gaze, failing, as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. And, gods, they fit so perfect, so nice.

Alfred leaned in close as he began thrusting, worrying the shell of his ear with his teeth, and pausing, only to whisper dirty promises to him.

“There’s no one else who can do this to you. You’re mine. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Oh gods, Ah-Alfred, I’m yours.” He said it over and over again until he was just mouthing the words, feeling fuller and fuller as Alfred sped up his thrusting, pounding into him harder, harder, harder until Arthur couldn’t take it anymore, and came, vision going white.

He could feel Alfred thrust once, twice more, before he came, and felt the wet warmth spill inside him. They had slumped down the wall, and stayed there for a few moments, just coming down from the high.

Arthur slumped against Alfred, back to chest, and sighed a relaxed sigh as he felt Alfred’s fingers trace the now-faint scar where they took Peter from his abdomen. It was in these small moments that he knew the full extent of how much Alfred loved him, how much he loved Alfred, and the little family they had managed to create in the chaos of it all.

Eventually they pulled their clothes back on, made themselves look as presentable as possible despite a torn shirt and a stained coat here and there. They entered their Throne Room with as much pride as they could, and were somewhat surprised to see no one there accept a frowning Jack Yao.

“Have the two of you no self-respect? To think I thought you’d outgrown these things.”

Alfred laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Yao sighed and led them out the door. “There will be rumors tomorrow.”

Arthur grinned a private grin. “Oh, we’re counting on it.”

He held Alfred’s hand as they walked to their shared bedchamber.


End file.
